


The Fallen Stars of the Seattle Garages

by chicagotime



Series: Blaseball Mythology [1]
Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: modern-type folklore?, seattle garages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagotime/pseuds/chicagotime
Summary: My take on how the Seattle Garages came to be.
Series: Blaseball Mythology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138508
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	The Fallen Stars of the Seattle Garages

In the beginning, there was Seattle. And in Seattle, there were two things: people and Stars.

People are... well, people, just like you and me. We have minds and hearts and souls and sometimes we even have eyes and limbs and flesh and occasionally bones, and we’re all just trying to make it in this world (read: Seattle, because that’s all we’ve got).

Stars are a little harder to explain.

Some rumors whisper that they were originally little lights in the sky that grew and grew until they were too big to fit in space, and came down to Seattle (the Big City). To this day, some Seattle-born fans who moved to other states leave food on their roof every night, just in case the little Stars in their area need some food to start growing.

Others murmur into curious ears that they were people who stole music from the Gods of Nirvlana, and were turned into Stars as punishment for making their own, better music. The people who believe this rumor are boring, and never know how to have fun, because they don't know what Teen Spirit smells like (definitely not just strong deodorant, flannel shirts, and grease, with a hint of something you can’t quite place, but are either enticed by or disgusted at, depending on your age and socioeconomic situation).

The Seattle Garages, who came later, know better than any bozo who believes either of these.

A Star is a person who is Noticed for excelling at a particular skill. It could be anything from singing and dancing to painting and carving to being charitable to spreading as many secrets as you possibly can to as many people as possible. They become so good at what they do that no one can tear their eyes away from them.

This, of course, means that there’s no one left to pay attention to the Gods, who have been here the entire time, feeding off the constant attention given to them by people, who in their eyes are suckers with nothing better to do.

This has Consequences. 

Eventually, this newly Noticed person is apprehended by the Gods. It could be when they feel most calm, making breakfast in their small apartment, or when they feel most awake, hunched over their desk while poring over their newest work, but it must be when they are alone. This person, this _transgressor_ of all that must be, is brought before the Gods, and is informed in no uncertain terms that they have been Noticed (no, they cannot modestly ask _Is that so? Why, I simply hadn’t noticed, thank you so much for saying that_ , they have in fact realised that everyone has been staring at them ever since they reached one million subscribers on their channel about how to prepare raccoons for dog fighting or whatever people get Noticed for nowadays, they are the biggest liar in the history of lying so far), and is then offered a Choice.

They can become a Star, and allow a God to take over their body. In doing so, they will become Something New, and everyone will remember them as always being a Fresh New Star who lives Just Like Us in Little Old Seattle, ever since they were young (why, they were Always Like That, their family will tell interviewers for thousands of documentaries, all of which will say the same things in different ways for years and years and years and years and years to come), and they will be able to practice their skill and Be Noticed by everyone until the end of time. They will Be Themselves, and they will be Happy while they do so.

Or they can say no.

Most people choose to be a Star, and lose control of themselves to a God who does not care. They will glow with a soft, blinding yellow light. Their eyes will reflect the Great Beyond, all full of planets and comets and the deepest, darkest black all at once. Their hair will always be gently windswept and solid as a rock. Their walk will be simultaneously highly confident and deeply intimidating, their speech beguiling like a snake and as emotionless as an AI learning how to speak. They will smile (always smile) with the frozen emotion of a coworker who used to be a high-school bully and just saw you kiss their crush, until they need to cry (always cry) with the sorrow of a freshly made widow, or frown (always frown) with the sadness of a lover finally, _finally_ signing their divorce papers. They will be human and yet not human, whole and yet empty, for they are Something New, and that isn’t always a good thing.

The people who say no become Garages. Cast off from society, Ignored by all who matter to them, they harness their anger and hone their crafts, waiting for the day they get the chance to fight those who forced them into their fate. They play blaseball to gain physical power, and play music to gain emotional strength. The gods rob them of their attractiveness, turn their eyes the grey of fallen comets and force their backs to curl with bad posture and rob them of whatever made them _look_ special, but can never take away what _made_ them special, and they play on anyway. They will never ascend, because to do so would be to submit to the Gods, to walk into the open arms of their greatest enemy and become something they refused to be. 

To be a Garage is to refuse acceptance from the ones who wronged you, and to finally be yourself.

It’s hard, but at least it smells like Teen Spirit.


End file.
